Empty
by annasan1100
Summary: Striving for perfection, Lucius was always hard on his son. Looking back now, would the outcome please him, or would he regret his decisions. A litte oneshot at how I think Draco Malfoy's father would look back on things.


Empty

I always told the boy, that showing your emotions was a weakness. Every feeling, every emotion, it was always there on his face, in his eyes. When he was younger he would pout at me. His face betrayed his emotions. Time after time.

Therefore I strived to teach him to keep a straight face. It took years, but at some point I got through to him, even if I could still tell his feelings from his eyes, it was a beginning.

At age eight, I got him a broom. He was a natural at it. It came to him, and I had to admit, he made me proud. Out of breath, he would touch down, telling me he'd would be a great chaser. A chaser… I wouldn't let my son be a chaser. I wanted him to be the centre, so I told him he should be a seeker. He was decent as one, but seeing he enjoyed the role as a chaser more, he never reached his full potential.

He got to the House team. With ease if I should believe Severus, and the Head of Slytherin House invited me to watch the first game my son would play. He lost against the boy who lived. He failed me. And I felt humiliated.

I never praised him. He was a Malfoy, and therefore I expected nothing but perfection from him. Every time when he'd do something wrong, I saw the shame in his eyes.

When he did well, his eyes would gleam, but I did not praise him. I never knew how much he saw that as a rejection.

At school, in academics, he was second best. Second to a Mudblood. At flying he was also second best. Never did he quite live up to my expectations. Severus would tell me it didn't matter. That his marks could get him to whatever job he wished for. That he was really good. I told the Potions Master I couldn't care less. I wanted perfection, and he failed at delivering. Every single time. Never did I notice the movement through the crack of the door. He overheard us.

Bit by bit, I broke down his innocence, and my wife hated me for it. She babied him. Spoilt him.

I wanted him to be emotionless. That's what I strived for. He was innocent, but enjoyed the place he was born in. He agreed with me on Mudbloods being abominations, although perhaps he only did that because of the Mudblood who would always beat him. It didn't really bother me. As long as it kept him from hanging with bloodtraitors and Mudbloods I didn't care. Still I could tell he didn't agree with my ways.

The night the Dark Lord returned he celebrated the Dark Lord's return, standing at my side.

Pleased I was, when the Dark Lord told me he thought my son could be useful. That I had done well. I saw a change in my boy. He became a bit withdrawn. And when the Dark Lord initiated the escape off his most loyal followers, Bellatrix, my sister in Law, came living with me. I could tell she made my son nervous, for he showed it in his stand. In his eyes. Those damned eyes.

The last mission I went on, turned out to be a complete disaster. I failed. My son looked upon me, shock plain on his face. His father had failed. Had done something wrong. Had not been able to buy him self out. He'd always believed I could get away with everything. Shock turned into anger. He stood next to his mother, clinging to her expensive robes, when I was taken away.

The next moment I was in Azkaban. In a cell, barely enough space to move. My wife visited me, but my son didn't. He refused to come by. I heard he was forced into joining. My wife was furious. Blaming me. She told me, he had agreed. He had told her it was out of his own free will, but she knew he'd been lying. They both knew he had. He was too soft. My wife screamed. She threw a tantrum and the dementors practically had to drag her away. She had never wanted our son to join. She wanted him to take a job, and have a quit and nice life.

I didn't see it as that. I was slightly proud. And I wanted him to come by. I missed him, and I really could do with some visitors. I wanted to see his eyes, that were like mine, but full of life. Never had I thought I would miss it so much.

But when I saw him —

When I saw him in that God Forsaken Hell hole, I couldn't tell what he was thinking. His face was blank, expression unreadable, just as I had thought him. And when I looked into his eyes, I was shocked at what I saw. It made my blood run cold and I couldn't suppress a shiver. When I looked into his eyes I saw nothing. Nothing but emptiness.


End file.
